Right Hand Man
by Beloved Radiance
Summary: On the list of things that are impossible to do with only one hand, taming your hair is pretty high up there. Luckily for Ziva when she dislocates her shoulder in a suspect pick up gone wrong she has Tony there to lend a helping hand - literally. (K for one slightly naughty word)


If, at that moment, you had given Ziva David a pair of scissors she would have, in all likelihood, taken her notoriously uncooperative hair and hacked the lot off. The wretched, bushy mass had chosen this morning, of all mornings, to flat out refuse to be tamed. Although with one hand she had most certainly been at a distinct disadvantage.

The root of her problem was the previous afternoon's altercation with the brother-in-law of their victim who had taken less than kindly to their request to come in for an interview and his uncooperative attitude had lead Tony, Ziva and McGee to the conclusion that handcuffing him was the safest option .The problem, however, was that he waited until Ziva was midway through putting said cuffs on before trying to resist, taking Ziva's right arm with him as he jerked away.

Tony's first movement was to restrain their suspect before he did any further damage. With the handcuffs successfully in place and the suspect safely sequestered in the car under McGee's watchful eye, Tony was finally able to check on his partner. He was unable to see her face but her right arm was tentatively cradled against her chest. He knelt down and gently raised here chin. The tension and pain was tight knit across her features and her teeth were pressed tightly into her bottom lip. It only took a passing glance at her right shoulder to see the source of the problem; her shoulder and its socket were certainly no longer in company. However, what shocked Tony most was the ashen tone of his partner's normally olive skin.

"I think my shoulder might be dislocated."

If the sheer pain hadn't been evident in her voice Tony might have commented on how blatantly obvious that statement was.

"I think you might be right there. Hold still for a second."

Tony pulled off his jumper, thinking it would make the best sling of what was available.

"Why don't you just put it back in?"

"Cos I don't want to hurt you."

"It's already hurting me."

"I really think you should wait for Ducky, or even better, a proper doctor, to do that."

If Tony hadn't been looking directly at his partner when her reply came, he wouldn't have believed that it came from his tough as nails ex-mossad assassin partner.

"I don't think I can wait that long… it really hurts."

He couldn't say no to her on the one occasion in their nearly eight years of partnership that she actually admitted to being in physical pain, especially not when he could hear the faintest promise of tears in her voice. Gently, he pulled her to her feet at which point she buried her face into his neck and braced herself against his chest. She knew that if she was in pain now it was about to get infinitely worse.

"Please … just … get it over with."

Her bravery was somewhat diminished by the fact that he could hear that her teeth were clenched throughout the entire statement.

"I'm sorry"

"Just do it, Tony"

He really did not want to do this but from past experience he knew that despite the pain of what he was about to do, in the long run his partner would be better off; dislocated shoulders hurt like a bitch. Still, he could not get his head around the fact that he would be causing Ziva more pain, in spite of any benefit that may accompany it.

Ziva kept herself anchored to his chest by wrapping her left arm around his waist. Her pretence was of course keeping herself steady so Tony could reposition her arm but she would not deny that she was taking enormous comfort from burying herself into his warmth. She felt as he tenderly placed his hands around her right tricep and braced herself for the pain. She heard his long exhale and then blinding pain sparked up her entire arm and into her shoulder. White light flashed across her vision and she felt her knees buckle but she remained tucked into her partner's side, only now he was the one supporting her weight and keeping her anchored.

Slowly, she was lowered back to the grass and her vision began to clear. She could feel Tony positioning his jumper as gently as possible under her arm and braced herself for the pain to come when he moved it to fasten the make shift sling. The pain came but was nowhere near as harsh as she had been anticipating, thank goodness he'd put it back in.

He cupped her cheek with his palm and asked if she was okay to stand. She nodded, not trusting herself to hide the tears in her voice that had, unknown to her, already begun to make their escape down her cheeks. Placing his hands on her waist he helped her back to her full height and tenderly lead her back to the car.

The morning after her shoulder was no longer causing her anywhere near as much pain. That was probably due, at least in part, to the work of narcotics but she didn't mind. Ducky had forced her to get an x-ray the previous afternoon despite her protests that he was overreacting. While she had been right that Tony had correctly positioned her shoulder and there were no chips or fractures, the narcotics were a welcome reward for conceding to the doctor's visit. In any case, the pain which had reduced her to tears the previous afternoon had receded to a dull ache.

While she was glad of the lessened discomfort from her arm, that did nothing to quell her frustration at her hair. The mass of curls was sticking to her neck and getting in her eyes and she was constantly using her one un-slinged arm to banish them only for them to fall back where they pleased only seconds later. She sincerely wanted her hair to disappear at this moment.

Tony DiNozzo liked to think that after eight years he had a special talent for reading his partner's moods but a complete stranger could have seen her ire this morning. In the time it took him to walk from the elevator doors to his desk she had pushed her hair out of her face three times, or at least tried to, it seemed she wasn't having much success with only the one arm. Note to self – definitely not the time for a Fugitive reference.

Ziva was so wrapped up her own frustration she didn't notice her partner's appearance until she felt his fingers gently raking across her scalp. She had to restrain herself from moaning, how was it possible that he could turn such a rotten morning into a pleasurable one with one small gesture?

Then she realised that his fingers weren't just raking across her scalp but slowly separating sections of hair and crossing them back and forth; he was braiding her hair. She could have cried with relief. Finally realising what he was doing, she reached into her top draw and retrieved an elastic which he then wound around the completed braid.

At that moment she didn't even consider on what occasion her partner would have learnt to braid hair, she honestly couldn't have cared. All that mattered was that he could read her like an open book and that this fact didn't scare her as much as it used to.

"Thank you"

"You're welcome"

As he moved out from behind her desk he pressed a chaste kiss to her hair line, bringing a smile to her lips as well as her eyes. Maybe being down to one arm for a few weeks wouldn't be so bad after all.


End file.
